


Allhallowtide

by skadren



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Character Death, everyone else is a ghost, more than in canon even, vincent is a vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-17 09:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skadren/pseuds/skadren
Summary: Allhallowtide: the triduum encompassing the Western Christian observances of All Saints' Eve (All Hallows' Eve), All Saints' Day (All Hallows' Day) and All Souls' Day, which last from 31 October to 2 November annuallyCloud is dead. Cloud is dead, and a ghost, and Lost. Thankfully, the supernatural creatures inhabiting the old ShinRa Manor are friendly, even if they're a bit weird.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart, Cloud Strife/Vincent Valentine, Past Sephiroth/Cloud Strife - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 103





	Allhallowtide

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween! october is vincent appreciation month

There’s a man staring at Cloud when he wakes up.

The shock of a stranger’s face lying mere inches away from his propels Cloud backwards, tumbling head-over-heels, out of the coffin he’d been lying in and straight through the wall—

He floats gently down to the red-carpeted floor, an entire room from where he’d originally started, then balks. Floating—?

The door opens, and Cloud stares at the man who enters, the same man who’d so intensely watched Cloud sleep, tall and gaunt and clad entirely in red and black. He’s across the room—and then he’s not, standing nose-to-nose with Cloud once more in less than half a second, and Cloud makes an unholy sound of terror.

“Hey,” a voice scolds, gentle and feminine and most definitely not belonging to the man who is still half an inch away from Cloud’s face. “You’re scaring him, Vincent. Let the newcomer breathe, will you? Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

The strange man—Vincent—makes a low, indecipherable noise, then backs up a few inches, just enough that Cloud’s vision is more than black hair and pale skin and gleaming, ruby-red eyes.

“That’s better,” the voice says cheerfully. “Hello there!”

Cloud looks around, but sees no one.

“Up here, silly!”

Cloud looks up, and makes another strangled noise. Floating stiffly midair, as if hanging from the high, raftered ceiling, is a brunette woman, head bent at a distinctly unnatural angle and blood staining her pink dress rusty-red. He almost doesn’t notice how she’s blurred and faded about the edges, and he can just barely make out the lines of the wall behind her.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot,” she says, and then she relaxes, blood disappearing from her dress, head shifting back to a normal position as she drifts down to stand level with Cloud. “Sorry about that. We’re practicing for tonight. I’m Aerith!”

Cloud works his mouth, trying to say something. It doesn’t quite work.

Something in Aerith’s green eyes softens. “Oh, I see. You’re Lost.” Something about the way she says it feels significant, and Cloud can hear the capitalization in her voice. Then she whirls on Vincent. “Vincent, why didn’t you tell me we had another Lost one?”

Vincent makes another low rumbling noise, then says, “I thought it was evident.” His words are just as deep, a strangely soothing mix of gravel and velvet.

“Don’t be rude!” Aerith says. “What if that getup was just for the Scare tonight?”

Vincent inclines his head just a fraction. “It isn’t.”

Cloud looks down at himself. The first things he sees are his hands, pale and trembling and bloodstained, and much more transparent than Aerith is. The second thing he sees is the blood staining his shirt, fresh and bright crimson, centered around a neat hole slit in the cloth just over his heart. Somehow, at that moment, he remembers exactly what the knife that stabbed him looks like, how deadly sharp it’d been, the strange hot-cold pain it’d carried with it as it’d slid into his chest, and he shudders.

“Oh,” he says dully, and his voice sounds thin, watery, far away in his own ears. “I’m… dead. A ghost?”

Aerith’s eyes turn even softer. “You are. We all are, here, except Vincent, and even he’s—well, do you need to sit down? I know it helps, for those who are still getting used to things—”

Cloud shakes his head mutely.

“Okay,” she says. “Vincent, keep him company, okay? I’m going to go fetch the others. It’ll be easier to explain with all of us here. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Vincent nods.

“And don’t pull anything creepy!” Aerith scolds, wagging her finger jokingly. “We don’t want to scare him off just yet.” And with a wink, she disappears through the wall.

Vincent stares at Cloud. Cloud stares back.

It’s a long five minutes.

-

“So,” a cheerful, dark haired-man says brightly, clapping his hands. Cloud thinks he introduced himself as Zack. “You’re dead. But the good thing is, you haven’t been consigned to oblivion! Hooray!” Zack grins, looking around, but when no one reacts, he continues, “Well, the bad thing is, you’re a ghost. Even worse, you’re Lost. But it’s okay! All that means is that it might take you a little longer to find your way. Well, a little longer’s kind of subjective. It usually takes, what, a hundred years? Two? Hell, I dunno, man—”

“Okay!” Aerith interrupts. “I think that’s enough out of you, Zack. Don’t worry,” she says kindly to Cloud. “We’ll help you figure things out. Even Vincent.”

Shrouded in the shadows in the corner of the room, Vincent doesn’t even blink as he watches them all intensely. He seems to do everything intensely, Cloud muses. Intensely yet emotionlessly at the same time. A paradox.

The other ghost, a dark-haired woman named Tifa, also gives Cloud a reassuring smile and continues, “Now, you might be wondering what Lost exactly means. Well, usually when someone dies a violent, untimely death, they become a ghost. But sometimes the emotional trauma of it is so strong that they end up forgetting what happened entirely. That’s what we call “Lost”. In lesser incidents, they just forget how they died, why it happened, the works. In the worst cases, though, they forget everything.”

“Oh,” Cloud says, still feeling a bit numb, and Tifa suddenly looks very worried.

“No matter how much you forgot, it’s okay!” she hastens to reassure. “We were all Lost, here, once, to varying degrees. Even if you don’t remember your name—”

“I remember my name,” Cloud says. “I’m… Cloud.”

Aerith brightens. “Oh, that’s great! It’s nice to meet you, Cloud. Do you remember anything else?”

Cloud frowns, thinking hard. Vincent’s gaze has fallen to rest on him, somehow even more intense than before, and it makes Cloud slightly twitchy and nervous. It’s hard to concentrate. But as far as he can tell… “No.” After a pause, he adds, “But I was stabbed by a knife.”

“But you don’t remember who did it or why,” Tifa guesses. “And you don’t remember much else of your life, either?”

Cloud inclines his head in confirmation.

Vincent makes a disparaging noise from his corner. “We could have presumed as much from his appearance.”

“Vincent, don’t be mean!” Tifa scolds. “Gods, what’s gotten into you? You aren’t usually this abrasive.”

Vincent folds his arms and looks away. “I was simply making an observation. His memories, or lack thereof, provide us with no new information.”

“ … Well, anyways!” Zack says with false cheer after an awkward moment of silence. “Like Tifa said, we were all Lost before. We’ve been in your shoes before. Everything’ll be fine! Soon you’ll be out spooking the ickle trick-or-treaters with the rest of us!”

Cloud’s gaze must have turned questioning, because Aerith explains, “All ghosts are only visible to the living during the three days of Allhallowtide, when the barrier between the dead and the living is at its thinnest. As someone who’s undead, Vincent can see all of us throughout the rest of the year, but that’s only because we’ve all been around for many, many years. As someone who’s newly dead and… very Lost, you probably won’t be visible to any of us or able to affect inanimate objects for, well, quite a while. Your presence is very scattered. That’s why you’re so… see-through, even on All Hallow’s Eve."

Cloud looks down at his hands again. He can see the floor through them. “Oh. I see.”

“The more memories you regain, the stronger your presence will be,” Tifa adds kindly. “Once you regain all your memories and come to terms with what happened, you’ll be able to move on.”

“Move on?”

Zack shrugs. “None of us know what it means. We all chose to stay. We hear a lot that it’s peaceful, moving on, but… once you do, there’s no going back.”

“So you can choose?” Cloud frowns. “Then why did you choose to stay?”

Tifa and Aerith glance at each other, and Aerith giggles, then latches on to Tifa’s arm. “We wanted to stay together. We were lucky—we died together, so we were always able to see each other, even when we were Lost, and we helped each other put ourselves back together. And when we remembered everything, well…” She looks a bit melancholy. “We were never able to be together openly in life. So what better way than to make up for it in death?”

“We were hung together,” Tifa clarifies for Cloud. “It was a long time ago… When was it, the sixteen hundreds? Either way, the townspeople didn’t take too well to two women who didn’t marry and lived together in the same house. They dug up some accusations that I’d killed my father to inherit his land and manor, and, well… that was it. It didn’t help that Aerith here actually _ did _ dabble in a bit of witchcraft here and there—”

“Who was the one who helped cure the children when that plague was going around?” Aerith says, looking indignant. “Okay, I might have cursed a few people, but—they were saying nasty things about you! It was for the greater good!”

Tifa sighs. “I know this, and I love you.”

“Of course you do.” Aerith presses a smug kiss to Tifa’s cheek.

“And you?” Cloud turns his questioning look on Zack. “If you’re okay with it.”

“It’s definitely fine. It was also a hundred or so years ago for me…” Zack ruffles the back of his hair. “I was a soldier during the Wutai War, you see. Pretty high up there, if I do say so myself. But…” He lowers his voice suspensefully. “That was my downfall.”

Aerith elbows him. “Quit drawing it out, you dramatic idiot.”

“Hey, hey, I can have some fun telling my own death tale!” Zack pouts. “Anyways, they’d been doing some real questionable stuff for a while. I thought I could be a hero, help the people, end the war, all that… heh. I was an idiot. They forced us to march into innocent civilian villages, slaughter all their livestock, burn all their crops… I didn’t know at the time, but my mentor was ordered to kill all the women and children in one village to serve as an example to the enemy. He did, but the guilt… I had to… He was branded a traitor and killed.”

Zack looks melancholy, then shakes himself. “Anyways. The war got worse, and sooner or later I got my own orders to… ‘exterminate’ an entire village. Like they were pests or something. I refused, and _ bam, _ before I knew it, there was a showy trial, a firing squad, the whole hog. Man, what a farce! Anyways, I didn’t come back as a ghost until the war was long over. I never bothered to check and see what happened. _ Fuck _ them. Fuck them _ all.” _ For a moment, his face contorts into a fierce snarl, but it quickly drops. “I’m still looking for my mentor. He must be a ghost, too, with everything that happened… I need to apologize. That’s my task; I won’t be able to move on otherwise. I come back every Halloween to hang out with everyone here, though. I owe ‘em for helping me piece my story back together, too.”

“You see?” Aerith says, and suddenly she’s standing in front of Cloud, patting his shoulder gently. “There aren’t many Lost Ones who pass through here, but we’re not new hands at this, either. We’ll get you sorted out in no time, okay?”

Cloud glances at all of them. The other ghosts all nod encouragingly, but Vincent doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“ … Okay,” Cloud says eventually. “I trust you.”

After all, what other choice does he have?

-

“So how do we actually go about this?” Zack asks, hovering cross-legged in the middle of the air as he rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I remembered most of my life up to the point where I received my orders, and you two had each other to act as reminders. We’ve never had to help someone who lost _ all _ their memories before.”

“Hmm.” Aerith frowns, deep in thought. “Well… why don’t we start out with you getting a good look at yourself, Cloud? Maybe that’ll jog something.”

Tifa rummages with something in the corner, then pulls away a heavy crimson drape to reveal a gleaming mirror underneath. “Vincent usually keeps these covered because of the whole, you know, vampires-have-no-reflections thing, but thankfully, ghosts don’t have that problem… as much. But it’s Halloween—your reflection shouldn’t be _ too _ blurred, even with how weak your energy is.”

Cloud drifts a bit closer, almost afraid of what he might see. When he finally edges close enough—

The shade in the mirror that meets his gaze is a pale, terrified-looking thing. Somehow, he _ knows _ that his hair is not that shade of washed-out blond, nor are his eyes that dull, cloudy blue-gray, and his skin is not that sallow and drawn. And yet they are, in his own reflection, and the lack of color only draws attention to the stain spreading across his entire chest, the crimson streaked across his cheeks, the splatters painting his hands, bright and wet and so, so red.

“Well?” Aerith says, snapping Cloud out of his thoughts. “Anything?”

“I… know I’m not supposed to look like that,” Cloud says slowly, falteringly. “But…”

Aerith smiles understandingly and pats his hand. “It’s okay. These things take time. We’re going to go finish setting things up; it’s almost dark and the more daring trick-or-treaters will be coming out soon. Feel free to join us if you’d like, but don’t feel pressured to, okay?” With another soothing pat, she and the others disappear through the wall.

Cloud takes another long moment to stare down at his hands, still pale, still bloody, still trembling. Then he sighs, shutting his eyes. He feels slow, detached, like the world around him is traveling too fast, and he sits behind a thick glass separating him from his own mind, his thoughts and feelings muffled, numbed. But even that numbness can’t dull the cutting edge of guilt, of self-deprecation. He feels like he’s let the others down, somehow; they’d spent the past few hours distracted from their own business trying to help him, and here he is with nothing more to show for it than a vague, sickly feeling of _ wrongness. _

He sighs again. Then he straightens his nonexistent spine and follows the others through the wall and out of the room.

-

“Dude, that was so awesome!” Zack cheers, shooting upward out of sheer enthusiasm. “The way that last group ran like hell! They were so spooked they looked like someone had crawled all over their graves! Hiding in the back like that only to jump out at them all out of the blue—you’re a natural, Cloudy!”

Cloud just nods, embarrassed. He hadn’t intended to scare the teenagers, as rude and noisy as they had been—he’d been content simply hanging back and watching the others go about their yearly routine, or the Scare, as they call it, spooking the trick-or-treaters seeking a thrill, tormenting those who’d come to inflict property damage.

Now that the night is over, though, Zack looks a bit regretful as he bids them all farewell. “I’d usually stay longer, especially since you’re so new, Cloud, but I’ve got a lead on where Angeal might be, so…”

“It’s all right, Zack,” Aerith says. “Tifa and I will stick around for the rest of Allhallowtide. You go look for your mentor.”

Zack nods. “Thanks, Aerith.” Then he turns to Cloud and ruffles his hair. “I’ll be back next year! You be good for the girls, okay? Bye!”

And then he is gone.

“Do you all usually leave for the rest of the year?” Cloud asks.

“Aerith and I usually go visit a new place each year, yeah,” Tifa says. “Like a kind of year-long vacation… indefinitely. But we come back every Halloween to meet with Zack and keep Vincent company. As antisocial as he is, we figure he must get lonely every once in a while…”

“He may not say it, but I do think he looks forward to each Halloween,” Aerith says, smiling fondly. “He seems extra grumpy this year, too, so I hope us staying an extra two days might help. And you’ll be here, now, too, even if he won’t be able to see you.”

Cloud frowns. The idea of spending an entire year with someone who clearly dislikes him doesn’t sound very appealing. “I can’t leave?”

Aerith shakes her head. “The Lost are tied to where they died. You won’t be able to leave until you remember.”

“Oh,” Cloud says.

“That means you died in this very mansion, though,” Tifa offers. “We can never tell what affects how long it takes a ghost to manifest after death, but Vincent’s lived here for a very long time. He’s usually sleeping, but he might know something about your death. And even if he doesn’t, some of the things here might jog some of your memories, if you explore enough.”

“Why don’t we do that, actually?” Aerith claps her hands excitedly. “Let’s all get a good night’s rest, and tomorrow we can start going through the entire mansion! There are so many secret passages and hidden rooms it’s sure to take us the entire two days.”

“ … Ghosts need rest?” Cloud says.

“It helps,” Tifa says. “We need to regain our energy, too. It’ll help you feel a bit more like yourself, too, I bet.”

“You can pick any room you’d like!” Aerith says, slipping her hand into Tifa’s. “Except ours, of course. Oh, and keep an eye out for Vincent’s coffin room. It’s in the basement; you can’t miss it. He sleeps in there, and he _ hates _ it whenever anyone goes in. Good night!”

“Good night,” Cloud says, a tad weakly, but the pair is already gone.

-

Of course, Cloud goes and does the very thing Aerith had told him not to. He’d been exploring aimlessly, trying to find a room that isn’t doom and gloom and dust and looks marginally bearable to sleep in, getting more and more used to the strangely sticky feeling of passing through walls, and hadn’t paid any attention to the direction he’d been going.

He ends up in a tiny room full of tightly-sealed black coffins. All but one in the center of the room, lid propped open, Vincent perched on its edges like a large, ominous bat.

Vincent’s red eyes flick up to meet Cloud’s gaze. He doesn’t look particularly irate, just blank, which Cloud has quickly learned is the norm. He doesn’t say anything, merely inclines his head in greeting.

Despite his mind screaming to run, to flee, Cloud finds himself compelled to float closer, as if drawn by a spell.

“You’re a vampire,” falls from his lips, unbidden. It almost seems to echo in the barren, dusty room.

Vincent blinks, then inclines his head once more. A lock of dark hair slips over his shoulder. “I am.”

“Do you really…” Cloud hesitates. _ Drink human blood? _

“ … Yes,” Vincent says. He watches Cloud carefully. “Feeding on live humans is no longer the custom, however.”

“Oh.” Cloud doesn’t know what else to say. He knows he should leave before Vincent’s strange tolerance disappears, but he stays frozen in place, hovering.

Vincent releases a near-inaudible sigh. “You are troubled.” When Cloud stares at him, dumbfounded, he sighs again. “You can speak of it, if you’d like. I will listen.”

“You… I thought you didn’t like me,” Cloud says, dumbly.

Somehow, despite Vincent’s face not twitching a muscle, Cloud gets the feeling that the vampire is frowning. “I… did not intend to give that impression. It is simply your situation I dislike, not… you as a person. I apologize.”

Cloud tilts his head, questioning. “My situation?”

“Yes,” Vincent says, and does not elaborate further. Instead, he asks, “What troubles you?”

Cloud shrugs. “I just feel bad.”

Vincent doesn’t look surprised, or confused, or disapproving. He simply nods. “Why?”

“Everyone… Tifa and Aerith and Zack… they tried so hard to help me remember,” Cloud says haltingly. “But like you pointed out… we have nothing to show for it. I don’t know… I’m just… I feel like I wasted their time, I guess.”

Vincent nods again. “I did not mean any ill with that statement. It’s true, everything you remember can be surmised from your appearance. But it is through no fault of your own. Memories take time to return; forcing it will benefit no one, least of all you.”

Cloud blinks once, twice, then smiles. “You’re trying to comfort me, aren’t you?”

Vincent says nothing, simply keeps watching him with those eerily sharp eyes.

“Thanks,” Cloud says regardless. “I’ll be on my way, then. Sorry for bothering you.”

“Wait,” Vincent says. “What are you looking for?”

He asks this with a heavy sort of weight, but Cloud doesn’t know how to answer other than the literal. “I’m just looking for somewhere to sleep for the rest of the night. I didn’t mean to—”

Vincent is silent for a moment. Then he says, “You may sleep here,” rising as he gestures to the open coffin.

Cloud opens his mouth, then shuts it. He isn’t sure if he heard right. “But—Aerith said you didn’t—”

Vincent shakes his head. “Aerith means well. But you may sleep here.”

“ … Okay,” Cloud says and drifts closer, still watching him warily the entire while. “You…”

“I will be out,” Vincent says. “I have some affairs to settle before the night dies.”

_ Right, _ Cloud thinks. _ Vampires are nocturnal. _

“Uh… good luck?” he offers. Vincent gives him another long look, and Cloud berates himself. _ What a stupid thing to say— _

But the corner of Vincent’s mouth, unconcealed by the tall collar of his tattered cloak, quirks up. “Thank you.”

As the door closes soundlessly behind him, Cloud can swear he hears him say, “Good night. Sleep well, Cloud.”

Cloud doesn’t sleep for a long while after that.

**Author's Note:**

> i know it would be a lot more fitting to update daily but midterms are a bitch so i can only promise this will be finished sometime... soon


End file.
